Saving Grace
by Magada Bridger
Summary: In which the future arrives in the present.  Umm... I've noticed an odd reading pattern.  I think people are seeing a Terry/Bruce ship that is NOT there.  Terry just has a soft spot for "the old man" and is trying to be gentle.
1. The Problem

Missing.

Tim Drake was missing.

And for the first time in his life the Batman was at a total loss.

There was nothing more he could do. Barbra and Dick were out looking for the littlest; Robin. Despite everything that had happened they were out there. What more could he ask for?

Batman turned away from the images of Nightwing and Batgirl sweeping through the upper stories of Gotham. He stared at a particular button. This particular button switched on a particular radio frequency. One of his own design; the Justice League was on the other end. 'Maybe J'onn could just... _think_ him up. Or Wally could run around and find him. Or Clark, Clark could simply _look through_ the concrete and bricks and steel and _see_ Tim.'

And maybe pigs would fly. If the BatClan couldn't find Tim; no one could.


	2. The Visitor

A gentle hand laid itself on the Batman's shoulder, startling the caped crusader. The hero lurched in his chair, ripping his eyes away from the button he had been staring at, lost in though. "Easy," the voice attached to the hand was soothing as it spoke, as if he were an injured, cornered, dog. The voice however did not belong to a face, at least not one that could be seen. This visitor, the one who had snuck up on the Dark Night, **was** the Dark Night. Or apparently some version of him.

"You could find him," the voice spoke again. "Or-" the hand on his shoulder moved, "you could just be a father." And Bruce Wayne felt his cowl gently being removed. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the gentle hands slide the heavy material down over the back of his head. The gloved appendages slipped down to cradle his jaw. Bruce opened his eyes. This Batman smiled softly.

Bruce examined him. The cowl was deep black and covered his face completely. The bat on his chest was red. And he was small. Not Tim small, small like a lacrosse player was small compared to a line backer. "You're much more handsome as a terrified father," the Batman was saying, "than as a billionaire playboy." Bruce smiled tremulously while a thumb stroked over his cheekbone. He wasn't sure if he was crying yet, but if Tim wasn't found soon, he sure would be.

**TIM!**

Bruce jerked again, swinging away to the computer. "I have to find Tim!" All at once his eyes searched the screen and his fingers pounded the keys.

"And you can," that soothing voice said again, "but I'm not sure it's the best thing." Bruce froze. Just... froze. '_How could finding Tim be bad?_' Fearfully Bruce looked over his shoulder. Had this Bat - whose ears were too long, whose tone was nothing like vengeance - could he have really come to... Bruce hiccupped silently. The Batman's cowl was serious, but not grim. It was not the kind of expression that promised the death Bruce feared in his heart.

But then suddenly Bruce Wayne was furious. So what that the mask was off, **He** was **Batman**! He would find Tim! "You can't stop me!" he shouted, surging up from his chair. Bruce was seething, for the first time he truly felt fully like Batman, even with the mask off. While the real Bruce Wayne was definitely more Bat than businessman, there was still something, even in just a piece of cloth, that made a difference. Tonight that barrier had been destroyed.

"I won't try," The Batman was relaxed, as if he knew all of this was going to happen, "but, there's plenty of time for you to listen." Bruce looked quizzically at his... counterpart? "What should I call-' A sudden shock of dread pulsed through Bruce. Was he saying that Tim was already dead? How could he know?

"You can't know that Tim's dead!" This time his should was desperate, yearning.

"He's not." Bruce felt the air return to his lungs. "But the Joker's already done what he's going to do to him." Bruce sat down, hard, on the floor.

The strange Batman knelt down between his feet, again taking Bruce's face in his hands. "I know this is hard, but in case you haven't figured it out, I'm from the future. I know how this is gonna end; and all the messed up stuff it's gonna cause." Bruce's eyes snapped up to meet the bats, cowl notwithstanding. "The old man doesn't know I'm here. I don't even care if I wink right out of existence, the future has to be better without all of that crap happening to you. The old man didn't deserve it. And that's why I'm here. I think there's a way to stop it from happening."


	3. The Plan

He was gawking. Bruce Wayne was gawking. Bruce Wayne dressed as Batman (sans cowl) was gawking. Effectively, Batman was gawking. He didn't care.

The being before him, presumably the batman after him, was willing to throw his life away to make whatever was happening here in his past **go away**. "You can't be serious."

"I can and I am," he replied. "I can't tell you who I am," the Batman let go, "I'm messing with things badly enough already," he pulled off his gloves "but I can at least prove that I'm real," then he pulled off Bruce's, "not just a disposable robot of something." Bruce realized that somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was a possibility, but that possibility dissolved as he felt warm hands slide into his own.

"I found something in the attic a little while back and it got me thinking." Bruce was now listening raptly to the young man before him. "I looked back into everything I could find and then I found Harleen Dennis. Formerly Harleen Quinzel, your Harley Quinn. I found her and scared her into telling me the Joker's real weakness. Turns out it was you. That once upon a time she had captured you, but he wouldn't let her kill you. He just wouldn't. I think that's already happened here. Do you remember it?" Bruce licked his lips and nodded. He remembered that night, and just how very close to death he had been.

"You see, the Joker, he doesn't just hate you. He wants to **win**. He **needs** to make you laugh. If he can't do that his life has no meaning. It's weird but just go with it. I've worked this through with a lot of really smart people. Nobody who would tell the old man, but still, **really** smart people. Like Gear and Wally..." Bruce wasn't very aware of himself at the moment, but he knew he must have reacted. Young Batman gave a little laugh. "He's way smarter than you think, and really good with people. And Diana. Not to mention a whole host of other people, but ones you won't know yet.

"And they all agree. That if, for once in your life, you go with your heart instead of your head, things will be better than if you go all world's greatest detective."

"But I have to do something!" Bruce's eyes were wide. The Batman's way was the only way he knew. He could feel the tears gathering.

"You need to do nothing." A warm hand moved over his cheek and ear and Bruce felt himself lean into the touch. "If the Joker doesn't get what he wants-"

"He'll kill Tim!" Suddenly, a young hand was wiping away his tears. A small part of Bruce was horrifed; Batman was crying.

"He'll give Tim back," the owner of the hands corrected. Bruce leaned heavier into the one holding his head.

"How can you know?"

"With a little prompting, he'll do exactly what I want. But." Bruce looked back into the shielded eyes. "But, you have to leave it to me." He sobbed. Closed his eyes, sobbed, and nodded.


	4. The Reality

"Call them back."

"I..." Bruce stumbled over his thoughts, swallowing convulsively. The new Batman looked down at him kindly. Bruce slumped down into his chair.

"I know this is hard, but you agreed to trust me." He looked back to the computer screen. "So, call them back." The private gentleness of this Bat was strange for Bruce but, somehow, encouraging. He switched open the BatClan's radio frequency.

A breath. A sigh. He was stalling. The future Batman didn't say anything. "Nightwing. Batgirl. Come home." As Bruce dropped his head in his hands the line filled with protests. They felt like they were abandoning him, Bruce knew, he felt it too. He was allowed to stay still, on the verge of tears for quite some time; until Batman's soft voice broke into his melancholy.

"It's been a half an hour. You'll have to ask them again." Sad blue eyes looked at the hand that settled on his shoulder. The gloves had returned, but it was still warm. Comforted, Bruce keyed the radio once again. He closed his eyes, taking in the support lent so strongly, by just that one hand. "Please come back. I need you here."

And this time, when the hero dropped his head into his hands he did cry. And this time, young Batman pulled him to the floor, into his arms.

* * *

They stayed like that for twenty-five minutes until Nightwing slipped quietly into the cave. He stood looking at the computer, expecting Batman to be waiting. The he looked up the stairs, hoping for Alfred. Then Batgirl arrived.

"Over here." A voice called to them. Nightwing motioned to Batgirl, signaling that the voice had come from near the brain of the Bat Cave. They moved cautiously toward the monolithic computer. To the left of the chair was a massive pile of black. A massive pile of black with a pointy-eared head. They stared. A hand lifted out of the pile and began to card through, what was upon closer inspection, a dark head of hair. The Bat Face looked down at the head murmuring, "C'mon Bruce."

There was a tired "...mmm" and half the pile sat up. Nightwing and Batgirl were still staring, but now even more baffled. Batman was sitting on the floor, blinking up at them, cowl** off**, sitting next to **another** Batman. How the heck did that happen? And even weirder, he seemed to have been sleeping in this guys embrace. Batgirl thought for a second that she might faint.

Nightwing found his voice. "What is going on here!" He was suddenly yelling, his face contorted with anger. "You call us in here when we should be out searching for Timmy and we come back to find you **SLEEPING**!" By this point he was breathing heavily and tears had gathered in the angry wrinkles around his eyes.

"Dick, Barbra; this is my replacement from the future. He has a plan to get Tim back."

"Yeah? And what's that." Barbra sounded rather cross as well.

"We-" Bruce faltered. "We let the Joker **give** Tim back." Nightwing and Batgirl were back to being dumbstruck. Future Batman decided to keep going before they started yelling again.

"You let me do all the work. Then we let psychology do the rest." Barbra and Dick now stared at him in disbelief. "And trust me, if it doesn't work; the delay certainly can't make things worse." He stood up. "Will you trust me?"

They nodded, mouths hanging open slightly.

"Schway."

* * *

The new bat was standing next to the original, who was seated in front of the computer. In what Bruce had no idea was his usual space.

"You know you're still fully in touch with your memories, and obviously still here. There's time to change your mind." The smaller Batman arched an eyebrow at him. Bruce privately thought that it was a peculiar expression, considering how the suit moved with it and the white lenses stretched. It was almost... comical.

"You know, the voice is a little different," he said, "but you sound just like the old man."

"I figured I was him."

"More like the other way around."

"It won't be any way around, if you destroy your future." Bruce was getting exasperated.

"My past actually, or my present, whichever." The cape-less Batman shrugged in a way that said he was really well past thinking about it.

"Well, if you change things I won't be the person you knew. I won't tell you the things I'm supposed to tell you. Doesn't that bother you?" Bruce was curious that this Batman seemed so unconcerned about something of such life changing proportions. He couldn't imagine, **didn't want to imagine**, how things would have been if Alfred were different.

"Nah, the old man doesn't talk about himself much anyway. I guess I'll just hear different stuff than what I was going to hear. It's not like I'll know anyway. Hell, I might not even remember any of this when I get back."


	5. The Action

A new batman streaked through the skies of Gotham. He was the Bat of the Future. 'Alright, things might look different, better even, but that doesn't change the location. Max said it's a left then a right from here; and if she said it, we know it's right." He remembered his last conversation, possibly ever, with his best friend, standing in the computer lab at school.

_"Here you go Ter." The young black woman held out a sheet of paper. "Why do you want it anyway?" He looked thoughtfully at Max, taking in her bright pink hair, her chocolate skin, her keen eyes. He knew he would have to tell her, or she'd find out anyway, and then she'd really be mad. She might even tell Wayne; which would totally not be good._

_"You remember when the Joker came back?"_

_Max nodded, crossing her arms, tucking the paper against her breast, where he wasn't likely to grab for it. He could tell she was suspicious now. "Yeah," she drew the word out. 'Definitely suspicious' he thought._

_"I'm going to keep that from happening." Max's eyes had widened at his declaration._

_Her pretty mouth opened slightly, staying that way for a moment before she responded. "And just exactly how were you planning on doing that." Now Max sounded smug, like she didn't believe he could do it. "And just what does that have to do with these directions?"_

_"I'm going back Max."_

_"What! Terry, you can't do that." She was emphatic, imploring. She knew he could, and would, if she didn't stop him. "Messing with the past is a bad idea. You could erase us all. You, me, __**Dana**__, Mr. Wayne, your mom, __**Matt**__, everyone; you could kill everyone." That gave Terry pause, he hadn't thought about his kid brother... But, no. Matt or no Matt; things would be better._

_"I have to go Max. They didn't deserve that stuff. I know he's rough around the edges, but even Wayne didn't deserve that. And especially not Tim, he was just a kid." He had meant to be firm, put Terry knew he had ended up pleading for Max's blessing. He was willing to plead. He knew he was right. Things would be better. "Besides, if things change it's not like we'll remember." And that seemed to give Max pause._

_"Alright McGinnis, what else do you need me to do?" Terry McGinnis grinned as Max, the self proclaimed New Robin, handed over the paper. "I need you to distract the old man while Static, Gear and I get the whole time machine part done."_

He hadn't kissed Max then, but he did just before she led an elderly Bruce Wayne into the kitchen. Just before he smuggled Static and Gear into the cave and left for the past. Well the present now.

Terry pressed his fingers to the window. He listened through the glass for a few minutes before slipping inside. The Joker seemed to have been waiting very quietly for any sound of his impending visitor. "Took you long enough bat for brains. You're just in time to see my newest joke. Aren't you excited?" The Joker's laugh was even creepier than Terry's memory of it. He swallowed down the crawling feeling it gave him and continued on with the plan.

"Nope. I'm not your Batman." Terry moved from the ceiling to behind a crate. "I'll laugh." He stared down at the Joker, swinging around, looking for the source of his echoing voice. "So you might as well just give up. He's not coming. You've broken him."

"What!" The Joker spun around. "What do you mean?" He demanded of the disembodied voice.

"He's holed up in the cave. Crying." Terry moved again, best to keep this psychopath guessing. He didn't have Wayne in his ear giving him directions this time. "Hasn't eaten anything in days," Terry was silent for several moments before continuing, suspense was a good weapon and one of the few he had, "by this time next week the Batman will be dead."

"No!" the Joker challenged his declaration. "That can't happen." He whipped around once more. "**I'm **supposed to kill him." Terry laughed, just like he did the last time he faced the insane clown.

"What's the matter puddin'?" Harley came out of an adjoining room.

"We," Joker stuttered, "we have to do something!" He grabbed Harley's shoulders. "It can't end like **this**!"

"Project CADMUS," Terry McGinnis' voice a la Batman rang out from the darkness above them. "They'll blame it on Luthor." Then he slipped out the way he came, making sure the window clattered just enough to let the demented circus folk know he had left. Terry moved to another, secure, window and pressed his finger to the glass, listening for confirmation that the plan had worked.

"That's what we'll do Harl," the Joker was saying. "We'll get it all blamed on Superman's pesky enemy."

"If you say so, Mista J."

"**And** it'll be one less rich buffoon around to deal with." The Joker began to laugh again, but this time there was the distinct note of a desperate man who had just found the only way out. Terry left.


	6. The Results

Virtue - a particular moral strength.

Patience was definitely a virtue. And today the BatClan did not have any of it.

'Well, it's hardly surprising,' Alfred thought; even he was having trouble keeping any facade of calm. Currently, the Bat Butler was dusting the clock room, to keep his calm. And to be the first one to get news from the cave. He turned around and shifted from foot to foot in front of the grandfather clock. There was a startling assortment of people occupying the main sitting room, which was clearly visible from the entrance to the underbelly of Wayne Manor.

Flash had been the first to arrive. He had said something quietly to Batgirl, which had prompted her to leave the couch. She returned about a half an hour later with her father. Then Superman had arrived. That was when Alfred had started dusting the books for the third time. Several minutes later a commotion began on the stairs behind the grandfather clock. Superman and Flash were wrestling Nightwing up the stairs. The former Robin was screaming about not giving up on Timmy and had nearly kicked himself up and out of their grasp.

When he finally freed himself it was to fall onto the floor in the main sitting room. Before he was able to pick himself up and scramble back down into the cave, Commissioner Gordon was on the floor next to him. The older man pressed Nightwing's hand into the floor, somehow stilling him. "Dick," he had said, "there's nothing we can do for him now." Dick Grayson then settled, arms wrapped around his knees. Gordon peeled his dynamo mask off. Nightwing was crying. For that matter, it was obvious Batgirl had been as well. "Even Bullock was out looking for the kid. He went to Arkham. Said he was 'real surprised that loonies were honest' when they said they didn't know where Robin is."

This was when Static and Gear arrived. They were truly the strangest guests of all. They did not seem to have any reason to be there. "I thought it was going to be something really terrible like that when we were called here," Static had said. There were no comments from the young superheroes about Bats having emotions. Static just walked over and knelt next to Nightwing as well.

"So, Robin must be Tim Drake then." Gear's statement had been so matter of fact. Everyone immediately stared at him. "I guess we should all know each other then." He removed his helmet. "I'm Richie Foley."

The room turned to Static, who was now holding Nightwing. "My name's Virgil Hawkins," he said. There was a mumble from the head buried against his chest. "Yeah, we heard, but thanks."

Batgirl's mask had disappeared while she waited for her father, but she introduced herself anyway. "Barbra Gordon and this is my dad, Commissioner Jim Gordon," she snuggled into his embrace when he sat next to her on the couch.

Sensing the great importance of the moment, Flash slid his mask back as well. "Wally West out of Central City." Superman, however, seemed torn. He bit his lip and... Richie turned to the Bat Butler.

"Alfred, right?" The British gentleman nodded. "Would you please ask whoever called us here what the plan is and exactly what they need from us. Alfred nodded again and disappeared behind the grandfather clock. When Richie turned back to the group Flash was finishing up a whispered conversation with Superman. As Gear joined the group, Wally deposited himself on the floor leaning against a Queen Ann armchair.

Superman took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "My secret identity is Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet."

It was Static who responded. "Well, that certainly explains how you get all the good Superman scoops." He felt Dick smile against his chest. Superman let out the breath he had been holding. Somehow revealing himself to these people had not been as painful as he had expected. Things were quiet for several minutes.

"Dude, V," Gear whispered to Static, "Flash's hair seriously clashes with his costume." Virgil grinned at his best friend, and then snickered when he felt Nightwing laugh a little against him. They looked over at the speedster. He was sharing a wide-eyed look with Superman. His shockingly red head dropped back onto the seat behind him and he grinned blandly at the ceiling.

Alfred returned. He immediately noticed things were looser in the room. "Well, now that it seems everyone has been introduced," he motioned to the couch, "if you would Master Clark."

"Wha? How?" The man of steel appeared truly baffled that the older man knew his real name.

"Please, Sir, if you think Master Bruce has any secrets from me you are sadly mistaken." He raised an eyebrow at the hero, who promptly sat in the indicated seat. "I have been instructed to 'just tell you what's going on'. Master Timothy has been kidnapped by the Joker and we have not been able to find him. Today a Batman from the future arrived and instructed Master Bruce to stop searching. He seems to believe that that madman will simply return Robin if we do nothing."

"It makes sense," Gear spoke up. "If he's from the future he knows what's going to happen and he's risking a lot to be here. The Joker is obsessed with Batman. Almost like a stalker. He's also obviously in the third - terminal - stage. The thing is no one can destroy the stalk**ee** but the stalk**er**. So it stands to reason that if he can be made to believe that he isn't the one destroying Batman, he'll try to correct that error."

"Seriously?" Static asked.

"It's a fine line," Commissioner Gordon replied, "between love and hate. Many stalkers save their victims from other people, or imagined perils." He shrugged. "But, in the end, if they can't have them no one can. That's stage three, where they destroy the thing they love." The white haired policeman sighed. "I only hope it's that easy."

"That still doesn't explain why we're here." Superman motioned vaguely indicating the room at large.

Alfred held up his hands in a placating manner. "All this Batman of the future would tell me is that you should just do what you do until he needs you. Just do not interfere." Silence descended over the room as the gathered crime fighters pondered their instructions.

"Monopoly anyone?" Gear asked out of nowhere. Alfred noticed the tension gathering in the room dissolve. Perhaps the presence of the blonde teenager and his cohort was not so strange.

* * *

"Wally's going in."

Shouts of surprise echoed around the room as the midnight - now dawn - game of monopoly came to a screeching halt. The Flash was suddenly obscuring the view of the open clock.

"Uhh... Not that I'm not flattered, but why me? Why not one of the Bats?"

"They're too well known, so is Clark Kent. And Static and Gear still look too young."

"You'd be totally anonymous," Flash pointed out, "And I thought you didn't want us to interfere."

"You have a science background, I'm crap at school. This is going to be over your head too, but Gear and I will be there to talk you though anything you come up against." He looked over Wally's shoulder. "Virgil, could you bring Wayne upstairs? He won't go unless he's forced."

* * *

So forty-five minutes later, Bruce Wayne was in a fitful sleep, still in the bat suit, with his head in Jim Gordon's lap. Wally West, who would be going by Kyle Raigner, and Future Bat left for the mysterious "Project CADMUS". Between the Bat Computer and Backpack, Gear's torso hugging robot, they had been able to hack in and make "Kyle" an employee. He would walk straight in through the front doors.

Wally looked up at the unassuming building, then to the spot where batman was supposed to be standing. He was using some sort of cloaking device and it made the fastest man alive feel like the craziest man alive. "This really doesn't look like some mastermind HQ," he said to nothing.

"It's underground," Future Bat's disembodied voice answered. "The trick is to act like this is your place and this is what you do. Mutter to yourself, we don't want to lose contact with you and it'll make people leave you alone.

"Alright. I'm goin' in."

"I read you loud and clear," Richie Folie's voice answered in his ear.

* * *

"What happens if he gets in trouble?"

"He runs very very fast: and grabs Robin if at all possible."

"Do we know for sure that Robin's in there?"

"Not yet, but I'm confident."

Commissioner Gordon looked the young Batman up and down searchingly. He didn't like trusting someone he had never met before. "How long has he been in there?"

"Flash?" the newcomer confirmed. At Gordon's slight nod he continued, "about six hours. He hasn't found anything yet, but I'll let you know when he does." He said all this without looking away from the large screen of the Bat Computer. "Actually, that's where you come in." Now he looked Jim in the face. "If Robin's in there and if anything comes up with this place, or with Kyle Raigner, I need you to make it go away. No police involvement until we're ready to bust the kid out." Gordon opened his mouth to protest but the future Batman cut him off. "Nothing overt, but I don't want them spooked. Make up something convincing to tell your people. Blame the CIA or something."

"I think I can do that." He thought for a second about how before something occurred to him. "Except for Harvey Bullock. He's one of my detectives. He'll follow the orders, but he won't like it and he'll use any loophole he can to find out what's going on."

"If you trust him, promise him the lead when you get the go ahead."

"From the CIA?" There was a note of disbelief in the older man's voice that clearly asked 'are you STUPID?'

Future Bat smirked. "They aren't allowed to operate on American soil. At least not against Americans. They'd have to give it off to you even if they were involved. And it doesn't really matter what you tell your men as long as they fall for it."

* * *

Wally West stared around him as the elevator opened on to the bottom level of the CADMUS underground labs opened. The seemingly harmless genetics company was not just two stories of microscopes and electrophoresis equipment; it was a sprawling underground mecca of science experiments gone wrong. He hated to think what some of the world's supervillians would do if released into this place. It was sick and twisted and most of the experiments appeared to be failing. Level 13 was pristine, like a hospital, and smell relatively normal compared to the previous twelve levels of hell.

On this level there were not any open doors and half finished examinations in progress for Wally to look busy with. So he just strode the halls, stretching largely, hoping to appear as if he were trying to work a kink out of his back. There was time for the final hallway on the final floor before he would need to return to the elevator and the surface for some seriously needed chow.

Almost not realizing that the end of a hall was a door until he was right on top of it, Wally was startled when a monotonous female voice asked loudly for "VOICEPRINT IDENTIFICATION PASSWORD."

"Ah, crap."

"INVALID."

"Whadoido whadoido whadoido!" Wally could feel himself panic as he mumbled faster and faster.

_"Shut up, Flash. Give me a chance to work."_ Gear's voice in his ear brought the red head to a stop. Standing motionless in his tracks, feet juxtaposed and arms mid flail, the speedster held his breath as long as he could. _"Jeez, Flash you look like you can't find the toilet."_

"Hurry up!" he hissed back at the teenager miles away on the other side of his ear.

"INVALID."

_"Dude, patience is not your middle name is it?"_ If he concentrated, Wally could faintly hear the furious typing of keys. _"Ok. I've got the voice recognition set, but don't say anything yet; there's an iris scanner that we're going to have to bypass. I'll code it to accept any scan accompanied by your voice."_ All the while keys were ticking in the background. _"There. Pick your password, but you only get one shot so make it good."_

Wally pondered for a moment before - "Raigner Authorization Code: nine-five-wictor-wictor-two."

_"Haha. Dude, that's great!"_

* * *

_"Yo! V-man!"_ Richie's voice crackled out of the shock vox.

"Sup, Rich?"

_"You need to take a look at this."_ Virgil gave the communicator a funny look. He extracted himself from batgirl (he had been comforting her after her father left and she had fallen asleep) and excused himself from the current game of UNO. Alfred showed the young superhero how to open the grandfather clock. Virgil studied the current incarnation of the BatCave carefully while descending the stairs. Very little had changed since the last time he was here.

Very little except for the image on the BatComputer. It showed Wally West's hands frantically checking over a small pale face. The background was red and Virgil found himself praying that it was not blood. 'If someone bled that much they'd definitely die.' Gear and Future Bat were standing in front of the massive machine.

"He's-he's been Joker-ized," Gear was saying. "I knew he was sick, but I didn't know he was that smart." Static walked up to them as Neo Gotham's Batman answered in the affirmative.

"And you need me to run interference so the BatFamily doesn't ever see this."

"Yeah man. This would kill them faster than Sharon's cooking." All three of them stared at the towering display. The 12-year-old's body was unnaturally pale and twitching. A muscle in the front of his shoulder jumped. 'He doesn't even have underarm hair yet.' The preteen had been stuffed haphazardly back into the Robin suit and dumped on the floor. Joker and Harley had not even bothered to zip it up; although it would have made very little difference. It appeared that they had just pulled until the seams ripped where they needed access to the boys flesh.

"Just one thing before I go." Virgil held up a finger for emphasis. "Please tell me all that red stuff isn't Robin's blood."

"It's not." Batman answered for Gear. He was staring raptly at the screen before them. Even through the mask Virgil could tell that the images bothered him.

"You alright, Terry?"

"Yeah." He sounded not so alright; and if the black boy hadn't known better he would have said that the Bat's ears were drooping. "Are you?"

"Sure thing. As long as Robin's alive we can help him." With that Virgil headed back up to the mansion. Richie's voice stopped him just before he disappeared into the passage.

"Bro."

"Yeah, Rich?"

"I-" Richie paused to swallow around the lump in his throat. "I'm gonna need you down here."

* * *

"You seriously do not need to see that. It's some pretty messed up stuff. And by that I mean not only totally wack, but..." Virgil sighed, "kinda heartbreaking." After coming upstairs the young meta-human had stopped to speak quietly to Alfred. How was he going to keep three of the smartest,** sneakiest** people alive from slipping away? Suddenly brightening the teen looked over at the resident Kryptonian. "Hey Supes," he called, "I know you can hear us, so you might as well just come over here."

The massive alien floated over, touching down gently between the high schooler and the sitting room. "What can I do to help?" Superman appeared genuinely concerned.

"I'm gonna need you to keep these **four**," Static motioned indicating Bruce, Dick, Barbra, and Alfred, "**up here**."

The man of steel nodded. "What do you want me to tell them?"

"Oh, I'll tell them. I just somehow doubt their going to listen; especially not to some kid from the hood." Superman smirked, acquiescing to the truth of the statement. They walked into the sitting room and roused the Bats from fitful dreams.

Batman stirred with a jerk. "What is it? Did you find Tim?" Fear and hope mingled on his face in a display of emotion that Clark Kent had never seen before. Sure, he had seen Bruce Wayne play it up, but this was so much more... real.

"Kyle Raigner found Robin."

"Who's Kyle Raigner?" Nightwing's voice asked from behind him.

"Kyle Rainger is the name we gave Flash."

"Is he alive?" Batman.

"Can we see him?" Batgirl.

"He **is** alive," Virgil took a big breath, "but it's not good." Batman looked absolutely horrified. "Alive we can work with, but I've got to ask you not to go downstairs." Dick and Barbra broke into protests. Bruce did not move, staring into Virgil's eyes still absolutely horrified. Then his voice, nearly a whisper, broke through the younger sets arguments.

"What could be so bad that I can't even see my son?"

Virgil pushed himself up into Batman's arms, hugging him fiercely. "I'm not going to tell you. Tim's going to need his family to see him for himself when he gets back. It's worse than anything you can imagine. So, just don't try." Static had been speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. Now he spoke softly just for Bruce's ears. "Richie needs me. And I think if anyone can provide you with the kind of hugging you need right now its Clark Kent." Static knew that Superman could hear them. He flicked his eyes up and momentarily felt superhuman hands pull the Dark Night away.

Standing up and returning downstairs, Virgil rubbed at the wet spot on his collar, wondering just what this was going to do to the family up stairs.

* * *

AN: This is a HUGE chapter for me. Hope you guys enjoyed it. I definately want reviews. I gotta know. I'm curious like that. And bonus points to anyone who can tell me what movie was referenced in this chapter.


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